


Like A Panther

by GohanRoxas



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Violence, everyone's older except Futaba and the adults
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 20:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GohanRoxas/pseuds/GohanRoxas
Summary: Akira Kusuru was framed. Framed for murder. The murder of a yakuza boss, even. Not that the fabled White Panther of the Isshiki, Ann Takamaki, cared more than beyond the guy being set up for her boss's death. With a cold war between families starting to heat up amidst suspicion, betrayal and rumour...and one family seeking to switch sides.And, of course, that family's representative had to be hot as hell.





	Like A Panther

**Author's Note:**

> So, I roleplay as Ann on Tumblr, right? And my primary partner is a Makoto RPer who's apparently a fan of yakuza - both the culture and the games - right? And we both ship Ann and Makoto, right?
> 
> Well, I just decided to put one and one together and make three.

The two blondes were leaning disconsolately on a nondescript black van, neither looking particularly happy. A cigarette hung from the mouth of the bleached male as he glared at the familiar chain-link fence, knowing the other side of it all too well. “Why the hell did the boss send us to pick this guy up?” he growled.

“Oh shut up, Sakamoron,” the woman grumbled at him, her deceptively lean body perched on the van. “You of all people should know why. The guy got framed for Wakaba-sama’s murder, and the Sakura are offering him protection from you-know-who.”

“I know why he’s gettin’ picked up, Ann, but that doesn’t mean it has to be us grabbin’ him, right?”

“I’ll admit that I kinda don’t want to be here either, but what Sojiro-san wants, he gets, okay?” Ann huffed at him as she turned, noticing a disconsolate figure stepping out of the gates. His black hair was messy, thick-framed glasses placed gently on his nose, his clothes almost as dishevelled as his hair was. This was the guy everyone thought killed the head of the Isshiki? No fucking way.

“Huh. This is the guy, right?” the male indicated with his chin, eventually spitting out the butt of his cigarette. “Looks as scrawny as Iwai mentioned.”

She arched an eyebrow. “At least try and be nice to the guy, Ryuji. He’s a civilian – or, he used to be – and he’s gonna be our guest for a while, so as long as you shut your mouth unless you have something nice to say, you’ll be doing us all a huge favour.”

The poor sap was more nervous than her cat when he’s at the vet, practically shaking as he looked at them. “Sakamoto-san? Takamaki-san?” he mumbled.

Ryuji grinned sarcastically at him. “That’s us. Good ol’ Skull and Panther. That makes you Akira Kusuru, right?”

The guy – Akira – nodded dispassionately. “Yeah. Iwai-san mentioned you’d be here.”

Ann’s smile in his direction was much more sincere as she walked over, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Of course we’re here. Sojiro-san told you we’d protect you, so we’re going to. Come on. We’ll take you to Café Leblanc.”

Akira blinked. “A café?”

“It’s basically the legal front for the Sakura family operation,” Ryuji explained. “Not that we really need it anymore. We don’t exactly get ourselves in too deep anymore, and as long as we do that, the cops mostly leave us alone.”

“Come on,” the pigtailed blonde smiled, sweeping a hand to indicate their van. “Sojiro-san’s waiting, after all.”

The poor guy nodded and practically dashed to the back of the van.

* * *

 

Café Leblanc was, on the surface, a very small place. A cozy Western-style café that served Japanese curry and Western coffee in equal measure, very homey and rustic. Of course, behind the café was a much larger and slightly more exciting and rich-looking complex, with many rooms and comfortable areas for multiple people.

It was the perfect place for a quiet yet powerful yakuza clan.

Ann and Ryuji brought Akira into a large meeting room that only had three other people in it, but five seats at a meeting table. One at the very centre, plain but large, was empty. To the left of that seat was a young man who couldn’t have been older than 25, cobalt hair swept almost completely over one eye. He wore a smart plain white suit and blue undershirt, a family pin in his lapel.

Directly beside him was a young woman of similar age, in a plain white dress and pink cardigan, light brown, curly hair framing her face. She seemed both sad and pleased to be there, an odd juxtaposition. Her hazel eyes occasionally looked at the man with something close to adoration, but it was easily missable unless you already knew about it.

On the right side of the larger chair was a serious-looking older man in a white pinstripe suit, a light brown shirt lying beneath it. He had thin-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose, a receding hairline and an almost-pointed brown beard on the edge of his chin.

Ann and Ryuji immediately bowed to the table, and Akira followed quickly after, after getting accustomed to the room.

The older man tented his fingers and looked at them. “Takamaki. Sakamoto. Is this the man Iwai mentioned?”

Ryuji nodded. “Yeah, Boss. This is Akira Kusuru.”

Akira stepped forward and immediately fell to his knees, prostrating himself in front of the man. “F-forgive me for intruding, Sakura-sama…”

“Oh, get up!” the man grumbled, his wrinkled face creasing into a good-humoured smile. “We might be yakuza, but we’re not one for that grovelling crap. Leave that to Shido.”

He scrambled up and dusted himself off, earning an amused smile from both Ryuji and Ann. The woman at the table laughed, and her apparent patron also gave an almost artistic smile.

“As you’ve probably already worked out, I’m Sojiro Sakura,” the older man explained. “I’m the head of the Sakura family, leader of the clan of the same name, and interim leader of the Isshiki family after…Wakaba’s passing.” He gestured across the table at the younger two at the table. “This is Yusuke Kitagawa, head of the Kitagawa clan and my captain, and with him is his…ward, I suppose the term would be.” Sojiro chuckled. “Miss Haru Okumura, recently defected from the Okumura family.”

Yusuke bowed lowly and Haru smiled, tilting her head.

Akira frowned for a moment. “I actually have two questions, if I could.”

The older man chuckled again. “And I have enough time to answer them.”

“First…” He turned to look at Ryuji and Ann. “When they picked me up, Ryuji-san mentioned…Skull and Panther.”

Ryuji laughed. “Yeah, I did do that, didn’t I? That’s our nicknames.”

“My nickname,” Ann bumped him with an elbow. “You gave yourself Skull because I got the White Panther.”

Akira blinked. “White Panther?”

She turned and smiled at him. “Two reasons. One, my mother is American, so I’m… ‘white’. Two, my tattoo on my back is of a panther.”

“Seems…apt, then.”

“Well, I suppose that means  I don’t have to answer that one,” Sojiro smiled. “What about the second question?”

Akira sighed. “Why? Why did you take me in?”

The old man’s face became more serious. “Masayoshi Shido.”

“Who?”

“He leads the Shido clan, a seething hive of scum and villainy, even for a typical yakuza clan. He has his fingers in many pots – politics, thievery, racketeering – and I believe it was one of their agents that killed Wakaba. Your framing was simply a means to an end.”

Akira sighed. “So what happens now?”

“We train you,” Yusuke chimed in suddenly, rising to his feet. “Sakamoto and myself in particular. You probably won’t be a full yakuza, but if you’re going to be with us, you might as well fight like one.”

Ryuji groaned. “And today just keeps getting worse.”

* * *

 

Shido was his usual, charming self. A bald, angry, self-centred ass who wanted total domination of not just the immediate Tokyo area, but of all of Japan. He’d wanted to be a politician once, but he’d been caught out as corrupt and thrown out of parliament. His immediate response? Make his own parliament of mutually-assured jackasses.

Makoto hated being in debt to the Shido. But it was Shido who had extended a hand – and a wallet – when her parents were killed in what she and Sae had been told was a botched coup by their men. And until they and Shido decided mutually that the debt was paid, the relationship between families would be tight-knit…and controlling.

And Shido had no intention of saying the debt had been paid.

“Baby Niijima,” a slimy voice drawled, taking her out of her grumpy thoughts and into the soul-crushing real world. One of Shido’s lieutenants: Junya Kaneshiro.

Makoto groaned. “What do you want, Kaneshiro?”

The bulbous wretch snickered and looked at one of the two…female entertainers on his arms. “Can you bring your big sister a message for me?”

“What?”

He sneered. “There’s room for one more in my bed.”

Makoto immediately pushed up as close to him as she dared. “Go fuck yourself, Kaneshiro. Because my sister never will.”

He laughed uproariously and walked away, dragging the girls away.

The young woman glared as she watched him leave. She hoped to God that her sister’s plan was going to work.


End file.
